Draconas drew in a breath, commanding patience. “We can stop Maristara and Anora and the dragon warriors from committing this atrocity. If we all join together and act to protect the city of Ramsgate—”

“The humans will fire the cannons at us and try to shoot us out of the sky,” said Mantas.

“I will speak to them,” Draconas said. “Make them understand—”

“Bah! Humans have no capacity for understanding. They are ruled by their fear—”

“In that, we’re much alike,” Draconas returned.

The young dragon bristled. “I say let them die! Let others of their kind see what happens when they dare to threaten those who should have been their masters centuries ago and would have been, but for some misguided thinking. You listen to me, Walker. If you side with those humans and try to save them, you will find me there to stop you.”

“And me,” said Litard.

“And me, as well,” said Reyal.

The three dragons rose from their places, their claws scraping against the stone floor, and their wings twitching, eager to fly.

“The session of Parliament has not ended,” said Draconas.

“Oh, yes, it has,” returned Mantas, his head snaking around to regard those who remained. “It has all come to an end. You just don’t know it yet.”

The three dragons departed and, after a moment’s hesitation, others followed until only four, Draconas, Lysira, Malfiesto, and Nionan, remained.

“The Parliament—” Lysira began.

“There is no Parliament,” said Draconas. He had not only failed the humans. He had failed his own kind. Despite what Mantas said, Draconas knew it and he grieved the loss.

“The Parliament of Dragons is dissolved.”

40

THE LADY IZABELLE SHIFTED HER EMBROIDERY STAND TO RESUME her seat by the fire. Marcus, sprawled in the chair opposite, had fallen asleep. She regarded him suspiciously, wondering if he was truly slumbering or shamming. The human was pale and gaunt with dark smudges beneath his eyes. He was restless in his sleep, twitching and tossing his head. He looked ill. She smiled, satisfied.

It must be a dreadful experience, Anora thought, smoothing the embroidery with her human’s hand, having one’s soul pulled out and stitched into the fabric of my magic, imprisoned within an embroidery frame.

The dragon wasn’t truly stealing his soul, of course. Dragons do not believe in souls. She had merely borrowed the human term. The enchantment she’d placed on Marcus was a type dragons had concocted during the ancient wars, when they had fought each other. If a dragon could lure or trick or force another dragon to look into his eyes, that dragon could catch hold of his foe’s colors and wrap them up or steal them or drain them or whatever he chose. So does the snake charm the rabbit. Anora had not been certain the spell would work on Marcus, for she had never attempted it on a human. Snagging him had been laughably easy, however.